and though the day be harsh, the night cold,
my world is warm, with your hand to hold
Archive for June, 2016
awake, through the long bleary night,
aching to shed the detritus of passing day, to soak in hopes’ light,
awake, alone,
floundering within my visionless sight,
waiting for this new dawn to break the desolation of cold dreary night,
hoping, hoping,
with all my being,with what’s left in me,
bracing for yet another merciless fight … … …
jagged faultlines of memory, sunken crevasses of hopes, of dreams tucked away,
for another time, a better place, another year, a less harsh space,
for a phantom day … …
whispers of yesteryear,
ravaged promises, savaged oaths,
squirming away,
down gutters of fate,
so don’t tell me of destiny, no patronising me with vows of love,
i stand alone now,
under winter skies,
desolate, in the slicing sting of the rains that fall from above … … …
another day dawns,
night yawns,
scurrying away into days’ waiting arms,
memories of you,
meander through my broken being,
your smile, your very whole,
offering solace,
to my vagabond soul … … …
For Tony Benn
( 1925 – 2014 )
You have not passed silently into the coming night,
your conscience towers above the brittle edifice of capital and of greed,
for as long as there remain hungry mouths to feed,
your soul is enmeshed within our collective whole.
You have not passed silently into the coming night.
Your battle is done,
the war!
the war is far from won!
So we pick up your scarlet standard,
and we continue to rattle the foundations at No. 10,
though today,
today,
we pause,
today we say,
‘Hamba Kahle’*,
to you,
our comrade,
our leader,
our towering ‘Big Benn’.
for Anthony Neil Wedgwood “Tony” Benn.
(3 April 1925 – 14 March 2014)
* – ‘Hamba Kahle’ means ‘go well’ in isiXhosa/isiZulu
no more photos please ...
Stockholm
Sweden
Summer 1990
sunset over Jo'burg
😼
fleeting dew disappears,
in the garden of blazing petals,
another day recedes,
ushering in night,
yearning to be caressed by the moisture of morn,
to the strains of lilting birdsong,
when another day is born … … …
my wishes are simple … … …
my wishes are simple,
desires few,
gazing upon a leaf,
nourished by dew.
my wishes are simple,
dreams hardly grand,
hearing birdsong in this desert,
together, hand in hand.
my wishes are simple,
my heart calm,
resting with you ‘neath this palm,
years rattling bones,
wrinkling skin,
greying our hair,
ever so thin … … …
Liebster Award Nomination
I really want to thank PoojaG for nominating me for this award. I really enjoy reading her posts and her blog is definitely worth checking out!
With this nomination comes 11 questions to answer, 11 blogs to nominate, and 11 questions to write!
Here are those 11 questions given to me:
1. What is your favourite book?
‘Sacred Games’ by Vikram Chandra
2. What is your favourite pastime?
Reading and writing
3. What is the one song you love but are ashamed to admit you like?
‘Firework’ by Katy Perry
4. Who/What inspired you to start blogging?
a close friend
5. Where do you want to travel to the most?
Angel Falls in Venezuela
6. Who is your favourite Star Wars character?
Master Yoda
7. Which book has really inspired you?
‘Long walk to Freedom’ by Nelson Mandela
8. What is your favourite genre to read and why?
Non-fiction because I am a keen student of history
9. What is your favourite quote and why?
‘Of all the things I’ve lost, I miss my mind the most’ from a film I can’t remember and because it cuts close to home!
10. What is your most cherished memory?
Playing in the monsoon rains as a child
11. What is your biggest goal in life?
to have a book of poems published
I really hope you enjoyed this post and don’t forget to like, follow, share and comment!
Here are the 11 bloggers I nominated in no particular order:
POOJAG
Grandtrines
MsBukky
Rinaldo Rosa
Cezane & Michelle
Lize Bard
Dakshi
New England Nomad
Voulaah
Bercatliz
Thom Hickey
For everyone I nominated, here are the rules:
If you choose to accept the award…
Thank the blogger who nominated you
Answer the 11 questions I gave you
Nominate up to 11 other bloggers yourself (preferably those with fewer than 500 followers, this is more of a newbie award)
Provide those bloggers with 11 questions of your own for them to answer
Don’t forget to put the Liebster Award sticker on your blog!
And here are the 11 questions for you!
1. Why do you write?
2. Who is your role model in life?
3. Where do you draw your inspiration from?
4. Who is your favourite music artist?
5. Name one place you’d love to visit?
6. Name your favourite book?
7. Would you be prepared to join a space mission to Mars
8. What is your favourite TV series?
9. Do you consider yourself as a liberal or as a conservative?
10. What is your favorite flavour of ice cream?
11. Your favourite True Detective Season, One or Season Two?
I really hope you enjoyed this post and don’t forget to like, follow, share and comment!
embers of love … … …
Rivulets of tears,
flow into gutters,
hearts break,
whispered truths shatter.
Love persists,
stubborn, obstinate,
unyielding,
a tempestuous deluge,
seeking murmuring eddies.
Love persists,
unflinching,
battle-fatigued,
lost at times,
floundering in muddied waters.
Love persists,
when stormy clouds gather,
the embers crackle, burn, tinder aflame,
deeply knit,
out of the piercing rain … … …
hewn into my being,
carved across my heart,
weaving through my mind,
embossed in my soul,
it remains,
a persistent reminder:
your name
fractured dreams, like moulting skin,
pepper the cold ground,
memories ablaze, raging through frigid hearts, thawing beneath the winter sun,
emotions recoil, reel,
as love flitters and skips,
on wounded knees,
in a corner to silently kneel … … …
Dew, like tears,
envelopes the morning rose,
petals glistening,
remnants of night,
echoing across the hue infused plain.
Fleeting dew,
like murmuring rain,
caressing each petal,
while far beyond the flowers of morn,
memories of the dew,
remain … … …
destiny
fate
somewhere
someplace
alfoat on honeydew petals
mere strands
filaments
years trickling through
fingertips
lost whispers
dreamed caresses
awake
alive …
smouldering
ablaze in the cauldron
of
destiny
fate
of convergent wisps
sprinkling kisses
on your
honeydew lips
The Cost of Revolution
(in memory of the June 16th 1976 student uprising in South Africa)
You hurled rocks, stones,
Molotov Cocktails,
Sling-shots against the brutality of racial oppression.
You fell on the streets of Soweto,
Thokoza,
Kagiso,
Sharpeville,
Tembisa,
So many more I cannot begin to mention.
Tasting the acrid stench of tear-gas,
Feeling the flesh ripped off your bones by their dogs,
Drenched by water-cannons,
Stung by rubber-bullets,
Whipped by sjamboks,
Shot in the head by bullets,
Paid for by your country’s gold.
You stood trial for Treason,
Facing the hangman’s noose,
You stood firm, you did not break,
Even though,
You had wives, sons, daughters, lovers, brothers, sisters, and friends to lose.
The revolutionary dream burned bright,
In all your hearts,
Even as the jackboot of Apartheid,
Fractured your bones and tore your families into broken and splintered parts.
You left your brothers,
Sisters,
Sons,
Daughters,
Lovers,
Wives,
Comrades and friends,
Seeking out foreign lands,
With only the ammunition that you held in your hearts, your minds and in your never-wavering hands.
The enemy did not waver either,
Tyranny didn’t cease.
2 AM knocks on doors around this land,
Meant to stifle, to intimidate,
Yet,
You took a stand.
Hungry,
lost far away from home, pining for freedom and your loved ones,
Still,
You stood firm,
You fought on,
“Release Mandela and all Political Prisoners” was your cry,
In capitals of far-off lands,
You feared not the bayonet in the enemy’s hands,
The revolution was burning bright,
Even as the dawn of Freedom was in sight.
Finally on a February day,
They released him and the joy was palpable, nothing stood now in the revolution’s way.
All the while,
The enemy consolidated its power,
Paying off traitors,
Seeding violence,
Orchestrating mayhem to taint the noble cause,
And still you took the tyrant’s rifles and clenched their muzzles in-between your brave jaws.
Never standing down,
Backing away,
Retreating to safe space,
The fire of revolution burned,
Spreading through the plateaus and valleys and townships and cities and villages in this pained land,
And still,
Still,
You held that Kalashnikov in your hand.
And when that day of freedom came,
You felt the stirrings of joy and pain and yes,
Of shame.
You felt the shame of leaving those you left behind,
You tasted again the pain,
Of economic hardships,
Of capitalism and its illusory promise,
Of a revolution left incomplete,
Till,
Every man, woman and child has enough to eat.
A revolution still incomplete,
Where hunger stalks the night,
Where mercy,
And comradely solidarity,
Left last night on a first-class flight.
You stand tall still,
Working as you always have,
Polishing the metal chariots of those you once bled for,
Still feeling the injustice,
Of not having the two cents more,
That deprives you of your daily bread,
And you try hard to remember,
Whether this is the revolution,
For which so many died,
The countless whose names remain unsaid,
The brothers and sister,
Mothers and fathers,
Lovers and friends,
Who lie cold and dead.
(dedicated to all South Africans who sacrificed their lives, their families, in pursuit of the revolutionary dream. A dream that remains a dream to many, and a dream that will continue to be dreamed)
frozen dew,
thawing beneath the winter sun,
imbibed by murmuring leaves,
vanishing,
its magic spun,
comforted that night is done … … …
choosing to love another, regardless of gender or colour,
a revolutionary act in a time of hate.
choosing to love another, beyond gender or creed,
reveals humanity’s true face,
beyond gender, religion, or race … … …
rootless, adrift,
neither here nor there,
the wandering nomad roams,
trudging through avenues of memory,
slogging along highways of loss,
whispering on a breeze of fate,
murmuring in a swirl of tears,
the wandering nomad knows no abode,
but the treacherous open road … … …
my poem at Lileasleaf Farm Museum in Rivonia Johannesburg as part of the permanent Umkhonto-we-Sizwe (The Spear of the Nation MK) exhibit.
(Dedicated to the countless South Africans who gave their lives for freedom and democracy)
Remember us when you pass this way,
We who fell,
Who bled,
Remember us when you pass this way,
We who fell so that countless others may stand,
We who bore the brunt of the oppressor’s hand.
Remember us when you pass this way,
Leave a flower or two as you pass along,
Sing! Sing for us a joyous & spirited song.
Remember us when you pass this way,
We who fell,
Who bled,
Remember us when you pass this way.
Remember us in your tomorrows,
As you remember us today
Amandla! The Struggle Continues…
oblivious, as petals,
wreathed in sublime dew,
each breath taken, finite.
the enigma:
how many more,
how few?
6 things racists say:
1. Some of my best friends are black etc …
2. You can’t keep blaming Apartheid/slavery etc for everything that’s happening now …
3. I’m not a racist but these people …
4. Must they have so many children …
5. They’re not like our people …
6. I’m no racist, but you can’t help people who don’t want to help themselves …
Muhammad Ali
1942 – 2016
the flame is gone,
the fire rages on,
he fought beyond the call, he fought for us all,
may his soul rest as his spirit soars free,
he who floated like a butterfly,
he who stung like a bee
in your eyes #14
consumed by the crowd, deafening silence assailing my ears too loud,
slipping away from the raucous row, the din of moments, the savagery of the now:
finding you,
my open sky so blue,
seeking peace, elusive,
rented out on a married lease,
give me a kiss, honest and true, deep,
in your eyes, finding the peace, that renders me a bore,
exhausted, fatigued,
needing only you, in your arms a restful sleep … … …
why call humans animals,
animals do not kill in the name of religion, caste, creed, or race,
animals?
monstrous beasts more like it … … …
Scribbled Verse 